


Red is the Coldest Color

by EnglishCivilWar



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Canon Compliant, Crushes, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglishCivilWar/pseuds/EnglishCivilWar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith’s startled look had quickly turned to one of annoyance. “You’re in my way,” he stated.<br/>Lance blinked uncomprehendingly.<br/>Keith let out a groan. “Lance, MOVE.”</p><p>(In which Lance is an epic fail at flirting, Keith is an oblivious walnut, and the rest of the team collectively groans and sighs.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red is the Coldest Color

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 1 of Klance Week (Red/Blue). This turned out a lot longer than I originally planned, so the red/blue theme doesn't really come into play until later. Oh, well. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Lance had always thought of himself as the most self-confident person he knew.

Not that he was vain. Oh, no. See, people would have you _think_ that about him, certain people with stupid mullets and greasy red jackets and dumb ideas -- but it wasn’t true. Like, at all. Lance simply knew his own worth. He knew what he liked and didn’t like, what he was good at and not so good at, what he deserved and what he didn’t. He knew his brain inside out, always trusted in his mind to never go wonky on him, to always keep up a state of normalcy.

In short, he knew himself. He knew himself really, really well.

Or, at least, he thought he did. But now -- now, he wasn’t so sure.

Because -- and, see, this was the kicker -- he couldn’t stop thinking about someone. About -- a certain someone. A certain someone who he should _not_ be thinking about, especially not when he was supposed to be writing up a mission report for the day, something that Allura told the whole team was extremely important. Lance shook his head. He had to _focus._

He put his pencil to the paper in front of him and determinedly wrote down a few words about the state of their weapons. Then, he frowned. _Wow, my handwriting really sucks._  Keith’s was no better, though. In fact, Keith’s was so sloppy, it was actually kind of adorable, because when he wrote, he would poke his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration and furrow his brow like this was gonna be some _amazing_ stuff and then it would come out like utter crap and he wouldn’t even realize it --

Lance stopped short.

_Damn it. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!_

It was Keith. For some reason, most likely because the universe liked to screw with him, he couldn’t stop thinking about Keith lately. Of all people. Keith.

_That asshole._

How had it COME to this? How had he allowed his mind to spiral so far into these _dark depths?_   Lance got up from his chair angrily, his fists clenched in agitation, trying to shut his brain up for at least five minutes. He glanced around for a distraction and spotted his mp3 player lying on the bed. His eyes lit up. _Perfect._

He grabbed the headphones he’d borrowed from Pidge and jammed them over his ears, cranking the volume up all the way. _There,_ he thought, nodding his head along to the music. _Much better._ A rock song was playing, something loud and angsty. _Keith would probably like it, actually._ He was always off to the side being emo, all by himself. Working out, usually. Or training.

 _Hm. Keith training._ That brought to mind images of Keith in combat, slashing at Galra footsoldiers with his sword, his helmet thrown off from the action, his stupid face twisted into that look of ferocity, of such intense focus…he was so driven. It made Lance’s heart beat faster to watch him.

Lance jolted. The song had finished.

_Goddamnit!_

With a sigh, he threw himself down on the mattress, ripping the headphones off in the process. His face smacked one of his many pillows with a satisfying _thwack,_ and he let out a long groan, bringing his hands up to ruffle his hair. At least the pillow felt nice and cool against his cheek. That was the one good thing in all of this.

He flipped over onto his back and blew a raspberry. When he thought about it, actually thought about it without getting distracted, he knew it definitely hadn’t always been this way, with him daydreaming about Keith for no reason whatsoever. It had been a while since he and Keith first met, but Lance still remembered their years at the Garrison all too well; Keith, always so annoyingly  _good_ at _everything;_  Keith, brushing Lance off completely whenever Lance goofed off around him; Keith, telling him that he would never make the cut if he didn’t stop being so lazy. He said that a lot, actually.

Lance frowned. _I’m not LAZY,_ he thought, his forehead pressed against the cool sheets of his bed. Those conversations had resulted in fist-fights, he remembered.

It was weird, thinking about all that stuff now. Now that they were teammates. They had a fragile friendship in place, and Lance was careful not to disturb it. Not that he _liked_ being Keith’s friend, mind you. He just enjoyed not being overlooked for once. That was all.

Yeah, now that Lance really thought about it, he was right: these weird...feelings about Keith, not being able to stop thinking about him -- they were _definitely_ all new, didn’t stretch back to when they first met.

 _But what’s HAPPENING to me?_ Lance thought, curling up on his side, his brow furrowing with worry. _This whole thing is strange._ He was used to thinking about Keith -- He was his _rival,_ after all -- but that had always been _him._ He had been the one doing it, the one granting his mind permission to think about Keith. Now -- Now it was like his mind had all of a sudden, and for no _literally no reason at all,_ taken that permission, that contract that very specifically stated to only think about Keith at _certain times,_ and just completely ripped it up. Keith was invading his thoughts at every hour of the day. It was chaos!

The room suddenly felt too small, too hot. _What the hell?_ Lance thought. He brought the back of his hand to his forehead. _Do I -- Do I have a FEVER?_ He swallowed. His throat was dry and scratchy.  _Oh, my God, I’m dying. I’m dying, and it’s Keith’s fault._ He needed to get out of here, get some fresh air, some water. He sat up quickly, feeling a rush of dizziness, hurriedly jumped off his bed and went out the door.

All the lights were turned off in the hallway. Lance blinked, his eyes rolling wildly in the sudden darkness. _Wait, what?_ This was totally strange. Every nook and cranny of the ship was supposed to be bright until strictly 11 PM -- well, it was actually some weird Altean time, but Hunk (that genius) somehow calculated what that would be on Earth, so they could sync up their watches.

Lance started. _My watch!_ He brought his wrist up to his eye, squinting to make out the tiny numbers. After a few moments, the small white face came into focus.

It was midnight.

_You’re kidding me._

How did THAT happen? He shook his head, continuing down the various hallways to the kitchen in a daze. It had been ten o’clock five minutes ago! He hadn’t really been -- No. He refused, _refused_ to believe that he had spent a whole two hours thinking about Keith. That was just -- it was IMPOSSIBLE. He must have fallen asleep, or something. In fact, he had probably been sleep-deprived that whole day, and that was the reason why he was feeling so strange. It was the only rational explanation for this mess. Nobody thought about their friends that much.

He turned the final corner, and, to his surprise, saw a light shining through the window of the kitchen door. He frowned. Someone must have tinkered with the ship’s wiring to turn that on. _But who?_

The white fluorescent light stabbed Lance’s retinas painfully as the door whizzed open. He flinched, blinded for a moment and blinking stupidly. As his eyes adjusted, the shape of a person gradually appeared before him, a person kneeling behind the counter. A person with dark hair.

Lance’s heart thudded in his chest. _Keith?_

The person stood up straight, and before Lance could even register what was happening, panic zapped his nerves. He could NOT see Keith right now, not when he was feeling so confused. What would he _say?_ What if he started babbling? _What if they started arguing?_ He let out an embarrassing yelp, jumping back so far he hit his head on the door frame.

Hunk turned around, frowning in confusion.

_...Oh._

“H-Hunk! What the hell, man, you scared the crap outta me,” Lance mumbled, rubbing his head. An ache had sprouted up where he had been hit, throbbing intensely.

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself, dude. I was just getting a quick midnight snack.” He gestured to his hands, which were filled with bowls of green goo. Lance hadn’t noticed them before. “Big training day tomorrow. Gotta fuel up, y’know?”

Lance nodded, distracted. His heart was still beating rapidly. _What is WRONG with me?_

“Uh, Lance? Earth to Lance, come in Lance?”

Lance’s eyes snapped up. Hunk was waving his hand in front of Lance’s face, his brows drawn in puzzlement. “Er -- Sorry, what?” Lance stuttered.

“I was asking what you wanted,” Hunk replied, eyeing him suspiciously. “You all right, buddy?”

Lance nodded quickly. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just kinda tired.” He cleared his throat. “Um, can you get me a glass of water?”

“...Sure thing.” Hunk slowly moved to the cabinet and pulled out a cup, his eyes never leaving Lance’s. After a minute, he handed Lance the drink. “Here you go.”

Lance took it greedily and gulped it down. It was wonderfully refreshing, the cool water like a gift to his parched throat. The cloud in his mind cleared, his heart slowing considerably. He felt better already. In fact, he couldn’t even REMEMBER why he had been so upset.

Hunk bit his lip, watching him. “You sure you’re good?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yep! I’m fine.” Lance grinned. What had he been _thinking?_ He was embarrassed for acting like such an idiot in front of his friend. It had _definitely_ been the heat. _I’ll have to ask Coran if he can install an air conditioner in my room, or something._

“All right, well, if you’re sure,” Hunk said, seemingly satisfied with Lance’s answer. “I’m gonna grab a few more things, so good night, man.” He waved to Lance with a spoon.

“Night, bro,” Lance replied, turning to go. He really was completely okay. Fit as a fiddle, in fact. He walked through the doorway, a spring in his step.

And collided with something solid.

He stumbled back with an ‘oof’, rubbing his head. _Damn._ He’d probably need an icepack for it, at this point. “Sorry, didn’t see where I was--”

He froze.

Keith was staring back at him, his brows raised in surprise.

_Oh._

_Oh, no._

All of Lance’s thoughts screamed out at once, turning his brain to useless mush. He could barely _think._  He couldn’t tell if his heart was beating at triple time, or if it had stopped completely. His stomach flipped over itself, and it felt like all of his bones had suddenly become rubber. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His voice had left the building. _Traitor,_ he thought crazily, _abandoning me at a time like this?_

Keith’s startled look had quickly turned to one of annoyance. “You’re in my way,” he stated.

Lance blinked uncomprehendingly.

Keith let out a groan. “Lance, MOVE.”

Hunk looked up from his bowl at the sound. “Oh, hey, Keith! What’re you doing here?” he asked jovially.

“I’m TRYING to get some water,” Keith replied, glaring daggers at Lance. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Lance’s foggy mind vaguely registered the words. _Keith? … Water? … Sleep?_ Some part of his brain told him to make a joke about Keith having a nightmare, because, y’know, he was such a _baby,_ but as Lance’s vocal chords were currently still covered with cement, that wasn’t really an option.

“Wow, that’s a coincidence, Lance here just came in to get water, too.” Hunk slurped the goo, watching them from his spot by the counter. Lance tried to telepathically cry out to him for help. It didn’t seem to work.

“Astounding,” Keith deadpanned. He stared meaningfully at Lance.

Lance had no idea what was happening.

Keith huffed angrily. “Oh, for the love of--” He rolled his eyes and shoved himself into the space between Lance’s shoulder and the doorframe, carefully squeezing his way into the room. “You’re SO funny, Lance. Seriously. I’m cracking up right now,” he grumbled, shuffling over to the cabinet, and Lance was suddenly bombarded with the image of Keith laughing, _actually_ laughing, a memory from earlier that day. They had been boarding the ship after stocking up on supplies, and Shiro had been lecturing Lance for constantly bumping into aliens during their stop.

“You need to watch where you’re going,” he had sighed, shaking his head. He carried his equipment easily, completely the opposite of Lance, who was struggling with his load.

“I DO watch where I’m going,” Lance retorted. Ironically enough, he actually hadn’t been able to see that well at that moment. The cardboard boxes in his hands kind of obscured his view.

Keith, who was walking in front of them, turned back to smirk at Lance. “No, you don’t, not really,” he teased.

“Shut up, Keith.” The boxes wobbled in Lance’s arms. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.

Keith’s smirk grew wider. “You’re actually pretty clumsy, in my opinion.”

“I _am not!”_ Lance unconsciously sped up his pace, fueled by indignation. This turned out to be a mistake. His foot stubbed against a rock, and he went careening forward, the boxes flying from his grasp as his feet twisted around each other. _Damn it,_ he thought, scrunching his eyes closed as he braced himself for the impending pain of slamming against the ground.

But it hadn’t come.

Lance slowly cracked open his eyes. Keith was staring down at him. Or, really, _he_ was staring _up_ at Keith.

Two things then became apparent in Lance’s mind. The first was that Keith’s arm was around his waist. This meant that Keith had caught him, acting on instinct. _Not that big a deal,_  he told himself. They were friends, after all.

The second thing was that Keith was laughing.

No, not laughing, Lance realized. _Giggling._ With a small smile on his face.

“You were saying?” Keith said playfully, not mocking at all. His eyes were open and warm.

Lance stared back stupidly. He had no idea what to say. He had never -- He had never seen Keith like this. Well, he had, but it was rare, and it had never been directed at _him._ All teasing between them was pretty much limited to Lance making a bad joke, and Keith letting out a long-suffering sigh. This, this was something personal, like an inside joke. A secret.

His face turned red. He didn’t want the moment to end. He finally had Keith’s undivided attention. _How can I give that up?_

“Lance, please, can you just stop? For five seconds, can you stop trying to drive me crazy? Can we have peace?”

Lance blinked, coming back to the present, and saw Keith’s face in front of him. But this time, he wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. His lips were twisted into a scowl, the flickering lights of the kitchen bathing his skin in white.

 _Ah, crap!_ Lance thought, suddenly realizing he still hadn’t moved. _Crap, crap, crap!_ What was he DOING? Keith probably thought he was pranking him, which, no, he wasn’t at all, for once. But before he could move to the side, or even take a second to think about what he was _saying,_ words came flying out of his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude. I’m just here. Existing. What, you have a problem with my _existence_ now?”

His voice was casual, nonchalant. _Thank God._ At least he _sounded_ normal, even if he didn’t feel it.

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m NOT in the mood to do this right now. Just _move.”_

Something in Keith’s tone stopped Lance short. He shut his mouth and moved to the side, keeping his eyes locked with the floor.

 _"Finally,”_ Keith muttered, stalking out of the kitchen without a backwards glance.

Lance bit his lip. He hated it when Keith got mad at him, actually mad, not fake mad. He really, really hated it.

The sound of a throat clearing made him look up. He jolted. Hunk was staring at him, a bewildered look on his face. _Damn it,_ Lance thought, mumbling a quiet “Bye” and hurrying out the door, _can this get any worse?_

He lay awake for a while that night, turning the events of the day over in his mind. _What’s going on? Why am I acting like this? What HAPPENED?_

It wasn’t until he was on the verge of falling asleep that he got his answer, a single thought drifting along his mind like it was taking an idle walk in the park.

_You have a crush on Keith._

* * *

 

_He was strolling along a touristy boardwalk, the smell of saltwater and cotton candy filling his senses. Children’s laughter rang in his ears. He turned his head to the side, gazing out at the beach, at the rolling, foamy waves of the ocean. The air was heavy, the sun high and bright in the blue sky, and it made the day lazy and warm, stretched out infinitely before him. Something tender and happy stirred in his gut, unfurling its tendrils throughout his muscles, relaxing them._

_Lance paused in his walking and stared at the sea. Everything was peaceful. He had missed this. He had missed this so much._

_A gentle touch on his shoulder stirred him out of his thoughts. He looked behind him, and, oh, there was Keith. He was smiling at Lance, a smile that, although slightly surprising to see on his face, looked perfectly natural. His eyes were bright and starry, and Lance couldn’t help but grin back, grasp the hand on his shoulder, gesture out to the sea. “It’s so nice, isn’t it? It’s really, really nice,” he whispered._

_Keith nodded. He came closer, and Lance forgot all about the view, the day, the warm air. He brought his palms up to Keith’s cheeks, and they were soft, softer than anything Lance could imagine. He felt Keith rest his hands on Lance’s hips, and suddenly they were only inches apart, and Lance was drowning in Keith’s eyes, gray, but reflecting the navy blue of the ocean at the moment, and framed by long lashes. Lance moved closer, and closer, lightly pressed their lips together --_

“You idiot, what are you still doing in bed?!”

Lance’s eyes jerked open. _Wha -?_

There was no beach. There was no Keith, either, much to Lance’s half-awake disappointment. Instead, he vaguely made out the image of Pidge leaning over him, annoyance written into her small features.

Lance frowned sleepily. “Pidge, where did you put the beach? You need to bring it back here right this second,” he mumbled, feeling his eyes slot closed again. _Keith…_

A sharp smack stung his cheek painfully. Lance yelped and shot straight up into a sitting position, his hand flying to his face. “PIDGE! What the -- What was _that_ for?!”

Pidge narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “Are you awake yet?” she asked impatiently, folding her arms across her chest.

Lance scowled. “Oh, yeah, definitely, thank you for that, you freakin’ _gremlin,"_   he grumbled. He rubbed his cheek sulkily. And he’d been having such a _nice_ dream…

Dream.

His. His dream.

The beach. The waves. The sun.

_Keith._

Lance felt his blood run cold. _Keith was there. Keith was in my dream. I DREAMED about KEITH. I dreamed about Keith and me --_

It was like a bolt of lightning struck him. He jolted, his whole face bursting into flame as shock zapped his nerves.

_Kissing._

_I dreamed about Keith and me kissing. I had a dream where we kissed. My brain generated an image of ME, Lance, kissing KEITH._

This was not happening. This could NOT be happening. There, there was no _way_ that he could have dreamt that. _This whole thing_ had to be a dream. Eyes wide, Lance carefully pinched his arm and waited.

Nothing happened.

He stared numbly ahead. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered Pidge throwing a hissy fit, but he tuned it out.

_So this is real._

It COULDN’T be. How could he have let this happen? There had to be, like, _rules_ against this sort of thing, rules that said that people were NOT allowed to have crushes on their rivals, because, _hello,_ that totally messed with the order of the world, right?

 _Plus,_ they were PALADINS! They were busy defending the universe! They didn’t have time for _romance._ Sure, Lance liked to flirt with people every so often, but that, that wasn’t serious, those people never made his heart throb, his knees weak...those people never invaded his thoughts, his dreams…

“Lance! Have you even been listening to me?”

Lance’s eyes snapped back up to Pidge. “Uh, yeah, sorry, what?” he stammered. _God, no offense, Pidge, but I’m kind of in the middle of an internal crisis right now and I really really really don’t have time for whatever it is you’re babbling about --_

Pidge sighed dramatically. “Okay, lemme break this down for you: you slept in, you’re an hour late, and maybe, _maybe_ if you hurry, you’ll be able to eat _something_ before training starts.” She raised her eyebrows.

Lance started. “Damn it, has it really been that long?” He hurriedly grabbed a shirt and jeans from the dresser and ran into his bathroom to change. _I swear to God, if I miss eating breakfast because I was thinking about that LOSER…_

Pidge was waiting for him when he came back out. She immediately grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the room without saying a single word.

“Dude, why are you in such a hurry?” Lance asked, racing to keep up with Pidge’s insane pace. _Man, the kid may be small, be she can sure RUN._

Pidge managed to glare at Lance and continue her frantic speed at the same time. “Because Allura and Shiro said today was going to be super important!” she yelled as they rounded a corner, nearing the dining room. “And also, I had to leave my food to go see where you were, because you didn’t show up to breakfast and Hunk said you didn’t seem to be feeling too good yesterday and well, well…”

Lance blinked. A grin slowly spread across his face. “Aww, Pidge, you weren’t _worried_ about me, were you?”

If looks could kill, Lance would be six feet under. He gulped. _Reminder to never get on Pidge’s bad side._

“...Anyway,” Pidge continued nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just threatened to murder Lance without even using words, “I wasn’t the one who wanted to check up on you. Keith was.”

Lance screeched to a halt, yanking an unsuspecting Pidge backwards. “Keith?”

Pidge spluttered at the sudden stop. “Hey, why’d you do that?”

“Keith?”

“What?”

_"You said Keith wanted to check up on me?!”_

“Oh.” Pidge adjusted her glasses. “Yeah. He was all worried and stuff, but, like, in a Keith way? Like, he was all brooding and silent and he kept glancing at the empty place at the table. I thought it was pretty funny.”

Lance felt his pulse speed up. His thoughts raced a mile a minute. _Keith was worried. Keith was worried about ME._

Pidge shrugged. “After Hunk said you weren’t feeling good, Keith just stood up and was like, he was like--” --Pidge squared off her shoulders and assumed a manly expression while lowering her voice-- “--’I’m gonna go look for him. He’s so stupid, he probably got stuck trying to get out of bed.’”

Lance frowned, his excitement disappearing and quickly being replaced by anger. “He said that? Well, you can tell him that _he’s_ so stupid, he’d probably get stuck trying to--”

“But before he could leave the room, Shiro came in and was all, ‘Keith, I need to talk to you, we have some important information regarding blah blah blah’, and so Keith told one of us to go in his place.” Pidge gestured to herself. “So, here I am. Now, I don’t know about you, but I really want to eat something, so can we get a move on already?” She grabbed Lance’s arm and pulled him forward without waiting for an answer.

Lance bit his lip. _Pidge is probably exaggerating._ It wasn’t like Keith to worry, especially about _Lance,_ of all people. Still, the thought made his heart pound.

_It makes my HEART POUND? What the HELL is wrong with me?!_

They veered around the last corner and headed into the dining room. Two plates were still out, albeit only half full, and Pidge immediately made a bee-line for one of them.

Lance glanced around for the trademark red jacket, but he didn’t see it. _Did Keith go in to training already?_  he wondered, feeling himself deflate a little as he took a seat opposite Pidge. _Not that I care, though. What he does. I don’t care at all._ It did help to weaken Pidge’s argument that Keith was actually worried, however.

They finished eating in record time and quickly ran to the training deck. The rest of the group was already there, Allura standing at the front and giving out instructions. Lance and Pidge hastily made their way to the back of the clump.

Allura smiled. “Ah, so kind of you two to join us,” she joked. The duo gulped. “Don’t worry, I’m not angry with you. We’re going to spar first, that’s all you need to know for now. Shiro will brief you while we set up.”

Shiro straightened importantly. “Yes, Princess,” he said as the group dispersed to the side.

Lance craned his neck, finally spotting Keith over by the weapon rack that had been set out, chatting with Hunk. He looked up suddenly, meeting Lance’s eyes. _Shit!_ Lance thought. He quickly shifted his gaze away.

“...So, basically, we’re pairing up long-rangers and close-rangers to better enhance our combat ability,” Shiro was saying.

Lance blinked. “Wait, what?”

Shiro sighed. “You’ll be fighting close-range with another Paladin, and then, after lunch, you’ll switch and both use long-range weapons. Understand?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “So, who am I fighting?”

“Keith.”

Lance’s eyes popped out of his head. _"Keith?”_

“Is that a problem?”

“N-No,” Lance stammered, feeling his face flush. _Fighting Keith. You’ve done it before. Not a big deal. Even if he grabs your arms and throws the weapon out of your hands and pins you against the ground --_

“Just, why can’t I fight, like, Pidge, or something?” Lance asked desperately.

Shiro frowned. “Because Pidge is fighting Hunk.”

“Okay, so can me and Hunk switch? I fight Pidge, and he fights Keith.” Lance twisted his hands around each other. “Everyone wins, we’re all happy, go home and have some cake, la la la, the end--”

_"Lance.”_

Lance stopped talking. He shrunk under Shiro’s stern gaze. “Okay. I’ll fight Keith,” he said, his voice small.

“Who are _you_ fighting, Shiro?” Pidge asked curiously.

Shiro opened his mouth to respond.

“Me,” said a voice from behind him.

The three turned. Allura stood facing them, changed out of her gown and into her suit. “He’ll be sparring with me.” She smirked and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Shiro stared for a moment -- _Probably thinking of how to not be so obvious about his crush on her,_ Lance thought with a snort-- then he blinked, regaining his composure. “Uh, yes, I have the honor of fighting the princess. Um, I’ll try to go easy on you.” He coughed.

Allura’s smile grew. “I’m not sure that will be necessary, Shiro, but you may keep telling yourself that if you so wish.”

Shiro’s face turned red.

The princess clapped her hands together as Pidge snickered. “Okay, everyone, pair up! We’ll go one at a time, so be sure to observe and take notes, even if you aren’t the one fighting.”

Lance swallowed. Everyone began looking to find their partner, but for some reason, he couldn’t move. It was like his feet were rooted to the ground. _Get ahold of yourself, Lance,_ he thought, gritting his teeth together. _It’s just sparring. It’s literally not a big deal at all._

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked up, and _oh God,_ Keith was staring right at him, _okay, okay, not a big deal, not a big deal at all, you’re cool._

This whole scenario was extremely familiar, but Lance couldn’t put his finger on why.

“Hey, are you -- not that I really care, or anything, but are you all right? I mean, are you feeling all right?” Keith whispered. He pressed his lips together. _Lips. Kissing._

All in a flash, Lance remembered his dream. He felt his face burn up. _Damn it. Damn it. Damn it._

“Lance?”

“Yep, yes, I am completely fine, totally fine, nothing wrong with me at all. Yes.” He hoped Keith didn’t notice he was sweating.

Keith nodded. “Okay, good. I was worried that -- well, I mean, well, I wasn’t WORRIED, actually, what I mean is -- I did notice, last night, that you seemed a bit...well, off.” He coughed, averting his eyes. “Uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about that…”

Lance bit his lip. He should have seen this coming. “Yeah, uh…” _Crap._ He had no idea what to say, how to explain his behavior. Should he apologize?

He wrinkled his nose. _Apologize? To KEITH? Hell no._ Never in a million years would he sink _that_ low.

Keith coughed again. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It was kind of going too far, really. It’s just, I was extremely distracted by a certain thing, and it was making me really mad and stuff, so...yeah.” He wouldn’t meet Lance’s eyes. “So when I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning, I thought maybe you were, you were avoiding me, or something. I don’t know.”

Something twitched in Lance’s brain. Something that said, _Things are getting awkward, you’re making things awkward, he’s catching on to you, FIX IT RIGHT NOW._ “What, you think I really care that much what you say? As if.” Lance snorted. “I was just catching a few extra Z’s, that’s all. It had nothing to do with _you."_

Keith blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he scowled, but he still kept blinking. “All right, whatever, forget I said anything. Whatever.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t really care what you do, anyway.”

“Lance? Keith? What are you two doing?”

They turned their heads simultaneously. Allura stared at them from across the room, a quizzical expression on her face. “It’s your turn. Have you not been paying attention?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Of course we have!” Keith exclaimed, grabbing Lance’s arm and pulling him over to the weapon rack. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to Lance, a look of panic on his face. “Did you hear a single thing she said?”

Lance shook his head fast. “No, I thought you did?”

Keith stared at him with wide eyes. “No.”

Lance poked his tongue out of his mouth. Keith started blinking again. “Well, it’s just sparring, right? There couldn’t have been any super complicated instructions, or anything,” Lance said. He stretched past Keith, his fingers curling around a small metal sword, and their shoulders brushed in the process. He felt Keith’s muscles go rigid.

Lance bit his cheek. _Does he really hate me that much?_

Keith activated his own sword and marched to the center of the room without even looking at Lance. Lance stared at his back, sensing the eyes of his teammates on him, and that familiar feeling rolled out of his gut, like something was burning and balling up in his throat. It happened a lot back at the Garrison, when they were required to do demonstrations in front of the class. The judgement radiating out of his classmates’ eyes had been enough to suffocate him.

Keith hadn’t judged him, though. Keith didn’t judge anyone. He was always too wrapped up in his own mind to see what others were doing around him.

Lance huffed out a breath as they took their places opposite each other. _See me now, Keith. Look at me. I’m right in front of you._

Keith frowned at him. “Um, I’ll try to go easy on you,” he said, his voice strained.

Lance blinked. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Screw you, man.”

“Coran, is everything in order?” Allura called out.

“Yep! All clear, everything is tip-top!” Coran’s voice rang out against the high walls of the room.

Lance gripped his sword tighter.

“All right, begin!

Lance knew that Keith had an advantage over him in hand-to-hand combat. _Everyone_ knew it. It was just a fact of life.

So when Lance made the first move, running up and striking Keith’s sword with a sharp _clang_ that forced him to back up, the entire room was shocked, including Lance himself. He looked up and saw that same surprise mirrored on Keith’s face.

There was a pause.

Then Keith narrowed his eyes and shot forward.

He was amazing to watch. The artful twists and turns of his body, how he dodged so skillfully, the way his hands easily held the weapon, as if it weighed nothing at all. It made Lance’s heart pound in his ears as he swung his sword. Keith was like a dancer; his movements were graceful, yet deadly.

But something was off.

Lance felt it the third time their swords met. Keith’s shifted downward slightly, letting Lance’s drive in just a bit further. It was such a tiny amount, Lance wouldn’t have even noticed it had he not been so attuned to Keith’s fighting style. _Something must be wrong. Something must be wrong with Keith._

He could wait to find out what, though. _I have to take advantage of this moment._ He would never have an opportunity like this again. Keith _never_ lost his focus.

Adrenaline rushing through his veins, Lance shoved in further. Keith took a step back, but Lance knew he would do that, knew how his mind worked, and he followed him, and his mind was buzzing, and he forced his weapon down with all his might.

Within seconds, Keith’s sword was knocked from his grasp.

It went flying across the hall and landed with a clatter at the opposite end.

Keith sucked in a breath, but Lance didn’t notice. All he saw was Keith without a weapon. Keith unarmed, unguarded, unsuspecting. _Because of me. Because of ME._

He didn’t think about his actions. He just moved on instinct. He leaned in even closer, grabbed Keith’s shoulders, hooked his left foot around Keith’s right ankle, and tripped him.

They both went crashing to the floor.

For a minute, Lance couldn’t sense anything that was happening.

Then, there was panting.

Panting. Lance was panting. Keith was panting too, he could hear it. Sweat slicked his face. He looked down. Sweat slicked _Keith’s_ face.

_...Wait._

_Down?_

Keith was below him.

Keith was _below him._

Underneath him. Looking up. Lying flat on the floor, and _oh my dear God,_ Lance was ON TOP of him, his hands positioned on either side of Keith’s head, his knees around Keith’s hips, their noses were only inches apart, _how did this even happen?!_

Keith was slack-jawed, his eyes hazy and clouded, yet impossibly big, the pupils dilated. His face was red. Lance couldn’t stop shaking. _What should I do? WHAT SHOULD I DO?!_

Panic threatened to overwhelm him, and he spoke the first words that popped into his brain, voice trembling. “Y-you were saying?”

There was silence. Keith blinked. His eyes opened even wider. He reached up, his fingers heading for Lance’s throat.

 _Oh, my God,_ Lance thought crazily, _he’s going to strangle me to death._

“All right, you two, break it up!”

They both started at the sudden sound of Shiro’s voice, Keith dropping his arm like a rag doll. Lance hastily climbed off of him. Then he stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. Keith was still lying on the floor. His face was blank, dazed. _Oh, no._ Lance felt something dark curl up in his gut. _Is he okay? Did I go too far? What if I seriously HURT him?_

“Out of the way, Lance,” Shiro said from behind him. Lance jumped, then quickly moved to the side, his eyes lowered. His heart was hammering in his chest. _I wonder if anyone can hear it._

Shiro knelt by Keith and carefully shook his shoulder. “Keith, buddy, can you hear me?”

Keith jolted at the touch, then blinked a couple times and swiped a hand over his face. “Uh, yeah, yes, I can.” He coughed and pulled himself into a sitting position, to Lance’s immense relief, then gazed wildly about the room.

Shiro gently felt along Keith’s head for any obvious wounds. “Well, you don’t seem to be seriously injured,” he commented, pulling back to check Keith’s eyes. “But you do seem a little out of it. Anything hurt?”

Keith’s face was beet red. He shook his head, his eyes lowered.

Shiro squinted. “Honestly? I think you should take it easy for the rest of the day, you look like you’re stunned--”

“NO!” Keith jerked forward, taking Shiro by surprise. “I’m fine! I swear! I’m _completely_ fine!” He was breathing hard. Lance had no idea what to think. “I just -- I got distracted by something. That’s all.” Keith pressed his lips together, looking like he wanted to shut up and keep talking at the same time.

 _This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen._ God, why did Lance have to go and tackle Keith like that? What had he been _thinking?!_ All it did was make Keith angry. _I probably DID do something to Keith’s brain,_ Lance thought, biting his lip in worry as he watched Shiro helping Keith up. _Now Keith’s going to hurt himself even more, just so he can get back at me._

Lance was such an _idiot!_

He had to do something. He had to _say_ something! Even if it meant his pride was wounded, he had to apologize.

But it was like he had something caught in his throat. He watched helplessly as Shiro guided Keith back to the group, then sighed and followed suit, feeling the strange looks his teammates were giving him the whole way.

_Why am I so USELESS?_

Allura cleared her throat once they were settled. “Okay, last pair.” She beamed cutely at Shiro. “Are you coming?”

Shiro looked up, his cheeks coloring. “Oh! Yes, I am.” He straightened his shoulders and went to join her in the center of the room.

“Ready?” Coran called from above. “Begin!”

Allura dominated Shiro within seconds.

The other Paladins stared, flabbergasted, as Shiro failed to dodge a single one of Allura’s advances. Though she wasn’t fast, she was strong, and her reach was longer than his, enabling her to hit him with a powerful straight right even when he pulled back. He had clearly underestimated her. Everyone was mesmerized.

Lance’s surprise quickly wore off, though. The same thing had just happened to him, so why should he be so shocked at someone else proving everyone wrong?

Basically, there were more important things on his mind.

Mainly the fact that Keith didn’t seem to be paying much attention, either. He was sitting over in a corner, fidgeting with his hands, his eyes lost. _I wonder what he’s thinking about,_ Lance thought, edging slightly closer. He swallowed, glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and headed over.

His plan was simple: _get in, apologize as fast as you possibly can, get out._ Like ripping off a band-aid. He stopped a few inches away from Keith, his shadow covering him, but Keith didn’t seem to notice. Lance frowned and cleared his throat.

Keith’s eyes floated up, and his gaze was so soft, his expression so open, and Lance was absolutely positive that yes, God existed, and yes, it was his life’s mission to kill Lance. He felt his heart melt into a tiny little puddle. _Jesus, give me strength,_ he thought dramatically.

He cleared his throat again. “I, I just came over here to say that, well, um, that I’m, I am, I’m very sorry about what just happened--” Lance winced. He sounded so formal. “Uh, I didn’t mean to hurt you, or anything, so...it won’t happen again?” He rubbed the back of his neck. He felt too warm.

Keith slowly blinked. A moment passed, and Lance shifted uncomfortably. Then, Keith grimaced and turned his face to the side. “Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Something like anger glinted in his dark eyes. “You’re not the one who screwed up. You did the right thing, taking me down like that.”

Lance stared at him. Something wasn’t right. There was an edge to Keith’s voice that Lance didn’t like. “Are you sure you’re cool?” he asked, his brows drawn in concern.

Keith’s eyes snapped to Lance’s. Lightning struck Lance’s nerves. “Yes, I’m fine,” he seethed. His hands curled into fists. “I can’t talk to you right now, Lance. Or, actually, ever.”

Something uncomfortable clawed at Lance’s chest. “What? Why not?”

“I just can’t. I don’t want to. Go away.” Keith’s voice was icy, his face fixed into a cold glare.

Lance pressed his lips together, a ball of hurt lodging itself in his throat. _He totally hates me._ He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling exposed. _"Fine,”_ he spat. He waited for a second to see if Keith would retract his statement, but he didn’t. Lance swallowed, turned on his heel, and walked off.

 _Well, I tried,_ he thought stormily, stopping on the other side of the room. _Ungrateful jerk. Who does he think he is?_

Lance didn’t need Keith’s approval.

He didn’t need his friendship. Or his warm smiles. Or the rare occasions when he would laugh, and it sounded like a wave washing over the shore of a beach, gentle and sweet. Or when he would look at Lance like he understood him. Like they understood each other.

 _No._ Lance shook his head. He didn’t need Keith. He didn’t _want_ him.

But the pain in his chest wouldn’t go away.

 _Damn it._ He ground his teeth together, tried to turn the hurt he felt into resentment. It almost worked. But when he looked up, when he saw Keith’s tense posture, his downcast eyes, it was like any anger he could possibly muster just faded into nothing, and all he was left with was sadness.

He didn’t want Keith to look like that. Keith always looked like that when he thought nobody was watching, and it made something twist horribly inside Lance, something deep in his stomach. It bothered him so much.

 _But there’s nothing I can do to fix it,_ he realized, leaning back against the wall. _It’s because of ME. He looks that way because of me, because of how much he doesn’t like me. Because I made him look bad in front of everyone._

Lance shoved his hands in his pockets, felt his chin tremble ever so slightly. He’d never felt like this before. This pain, this total rejection from someone he liked so much -- it was completely foreign, and it hurt. It hurt like _hell._

A sudden whooping from the right startled him, and he turned to see the other Paladins cheering. In the center of the room stood a flushed, grinning Allura, and at her feet -- It was Shiro. He was stunned, and panting, but not injured. Lance felt a small smile creep onto his face. _Shouldn’t have underestimated her, buddy._

“Okay, everyone, break time before lunch!” Allura sang, clapping her hands together. Everyone else dispersed, but Lance didn’t move, instead watching her for a moment. She knelt to the floor and gently helped Shiro to his feet, blushing and stammering all the way. He looked surprised at first, but then he started laughing, and then she started laughing, too, and Lance felt something tug in his heart. He looked away.

A giant hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder, and he jolted. “Wha-?”

Before he knew what was happening, he was being whisked down the hallway and shoved into a small meeting room. He heard someone slamming and locking the door behind him, and he gazed around, blinking and dizzy. _What…?_

He turned. Pidge and Hunk stared back at him with twin accusatory looks, arms folded across their chests. They looked like they were waiting for him to talk.

Lance continued blinking. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was still asleep, and this whole day was some wild dream he was having.

Pidge frowned at him. “Well?!” she finally exploded, throwing her hands in the air. “When were you planning on telling us that you got together with Keith?”

Lance stared at her, stunned. Of all the things he had been expecting, that had definitely _not_ been one of them. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Hunk shook his head. “Yeah, man, really not cool. I thought we were brothers, y’know? You gotta tell me things like this. It’s Bro Code.”

Pidge hummed in agreement.

Lance was stupefied. No, _more_ than that. His brain had exploded. He was left with nothing but an empty head and only one thought banging around his skull: _WHAT?_

_"WHAT?”_

Pidge squinted at him. “What do you mean, ‘what’? It’s a simple question, Lance. Even you should be able to answer it.” She raised an eyebrow.

Lance was starting to get angry, and he didn’t even know _why._ “I have no idea what you guys are talking about! What -- Why are you doing this? I need to get back --” He started towards the door, but the duo stepped in front of it, blocking him.

“You can’t lie to us, dude,” Hunk said, shrugging his shoulders. “We saw how you and Keith were acting today. And last night, too.” He drew his eyebrows together. “So, I’m guessing it happened sometime yesterday? Before the whole water incident?”

“Not that we need details, or anything,” Pidge quickly added. “Just why you feel the need to keep it a secret.”

Lance looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. “I’m not keeping _anything_ a secret!” he shouted, balling his hands into fists. “We didn’t -- there’s no lie, I didn’t -- Keith and I -- _We didn’t hook up!"_

The three of them stared at each other. Lance was panting. _This is absolutely the worst thing that could have possibly happened._ He felt awful. All he wanted was to lie down and sleep for the rest of time.

Hunk and Pidge shared a look, silently communicating with each other. Pidge cleared her throat. “So -- So, you’re really telling the truth?” she asked awkwardly.

Lance was fuming. “Yes. Yes. I am.”

There was a short pause.

Hunk bit his lip. “...Oh.” He hesitated, and Lance mentally braced himself. “So, then, like, what’s the deal?”

The lid burst. Lance felt all the stress and anxiety of the day hit the inside of his skull like a beating drum, hot and loud and burning and angry and breaking apart. “The _deal_ is that you two idiots won’t stop _bothering_ me about something that, that didn’t happen, something that never, and I mean _never_ \--” --his voice cracked-- “-- _will happen,_ because he, he made it very clear today that he _hates my guts_ and doesn’t, doesn’t want me anywhere near him cause I’m just, I’m just so incredibly annoying and it’s just _not fair_ cause he realized this at the literal exact time that I realized I wanted to kiss him and--”

Hunk grabbed his shoulders and began running his hands up and down Lance’s arms, a serious expression on his face. “It’s okay, calm down,” he said soothingly, and Lance suddenly realized he was shaking with adrenaline. _That can’t be good._ He took a few deep breaths, trying to reign in his emotions as best he could. _God, and now they know._

_Now they know._

A minute passed. Pidge spoke up, her voice quiet. “Listen, we’re really sorry,” she said sincerely. “I swear, we weren’t trying to make you upset or anything. We just -- We saw how you guys were acting with each other, and it seemed very...strange.”

Lanced huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Sure. Strange.”

Pidge shrugged. “Well, yeah. We thought you two got together, then had, like, a fight, or something.”

“I wish.” Lance snorted. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “No. Like I said, he just realized that he actually hates me. And I realized that I actually don’t hate him.”

Hunk gazed at him sympathetically. “How bad you got it?”

Lance shut his eyes and breathed out through his nose. “Real, real bad.”

“How long?”

“For a while. I don’t know. I didn’t realize it until I was in way too deep.”

Pidge grimaced. “Wow, that sucks.”

Lance didn’t even try to argue. He just sighed again. He was so tired.

After a moment, Hunk took a breath. “Look, I know you’ve got your heart set on thinking that he hates you, but -- just hear me out -- maybe, _maybe,_ you’re overanalyzing it a bit?”

Lance narrowed his eyes. _Not likely._

Hunk held up his hands. “Hey, don’t get mad at me, I’m just saying that maybe he’s actually upset about something else? After all, it’s not like he’s been talking to any of the rest of us much lately, either.”

That was...actually, kind of true. Lance thought about it. Keith had been treating them all pretty distantly. _It just seems like he especially hates ME,_ Lance thought, his chest tightening.

“Maybe you did something to annoy him without realizing it?” Pidge piped up. “And, and he’s waiting for you to remember and beg on your knees for his forgiveness?”

Lance wrinkled his nose. “Uh…no.”

“Either way, he definitely doesn’t hate you. Or, even if he does, it can’t be permanent.” Hunk snapped his fingers. “Hey, remember a few days ago when he caught you after you tripped? He didn’t hate you then.”

Lance flushed, the memory surfacing. “Yeah.”

“So, you have a shot!” Pidge’s voice took on an excited trill. “As long as he doesn’t hate you _completely,_ you can get him to come around. I mean, you flirt with people all the time; this is basically the same thing!”

“It’s NOT, though,” Lance said, pacing back and forth. Despite himself, he was beginning to feel a flicker of hope, like a candle in the darkness. “This is different. This is _real.”_

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Oh, my God, you’re so sappy.” But he was smiling.

Lance gave a crooked grin. He felt energy coming back to him, replacing the anger of before, and it was welcome, so welcome. He wasn’t used to getting this worked up over someone. _But, dammit, Keith is worth it._ He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “So, I should just go in and be all suave, right? Yeah. I’m, like, Casanova. I’m a beast at this.”

Pidge shook her head. “No, no, no. Just be yourself. Just be real.”

Lance blinked. “Real?”

Hunk nodded. “Yeah. Don’t be fake. Just talk to him. He’s a person, too,” he pointed out.

Lance turned it over in his mind, rubbing a hand over his chin. “He’s a person...hm. That makes sense.” He paused. “But I’m still gonna be charming.”

Pidge sighed. “Sure, Lance. You do you.”

The sudden beeping of Hunk’s watch startled all of them. He brought it to his face. “Lunch time, come to Papa,” he announced, cracking a smile that made Lance and Pidge giggle.

They filed into the dining hall a few minutes later, and Lance felt lighter than he had all day. The way Hunk and Pidge talked about it -- it definitely seemed like he had a chance. If he could only win Keith over, somehow….

He stopped himself. _First, you have to get him to actually LIKE you,_ he thought sternly. _Well, I’m GREAT at that, aren’t I? EVERYONE likes me._ Maybe not at first, maybe not when they saw his piloting skills, or his intelligence, but...he did win them over in the end, didn’t he?

He paused. _Yes. Yes, I do._

At that very moment, the door he was standing in front of slid open, and someone slammed directly into Lance’s back. He stumbled forward with an _'oof’,_  knocked off balance, then groaned and turned around.

It was Keith.

Of course.

 _Don’t panic, Lance,_ he told himself firmly. _Not this time. Let’s NOT have a repeat of the Water Incident._

Keith blinked. “Sorry, didn’t see where I was--”

“No, I’M sorry.” Lance puffed out his chest. “It is completely, one hundred percent my fault. I shouldn’t have been standing there.” He bowed slightly for added awesomeness, then stepped to the side and gestured to the inside of the room. “After you,” he said gallantly.

Keith stared at him like he was insane. “Um. Okay.” He slowly walked past Lance, his eyes wide.

Lance grinned to himself. _Score._

Keith headed to the dining table, idly pausing to pick a chair. Lance felt his pulse race; this was another chance handed to him on a silver platter! He immediately rushed over and pulled out the seat Keith was standing in front of. _Oh, my God, I am SUCH a gentleman, I’m swooning over myself._

Keith scowled. “Fine, whatever, I don’t even care,” he muttered, moving to take the seat across the table.

 _What?_ Lance thought, his heart thudding. _I don’t get it? Why didn’t he sit down?_ He frowned at the chair still in his hands.

Then he stopped.

 _Oh, crap,_ he realized, feeling his face flush, _Keith thought I was stealing his chair!_ His first instinct was to immediately tell Keith what he’d really been trying to do, but he quickly registered that as being too awkward. The moment had passed; there was nothing else to do. With a heavy sigh, he sank down in the chair, his mind buzzing with different ideas of how to handle the situation.

He glanced at Hunk and Pidge a few seats away, wondering if he could telepathically ask them for advice, but they were deep in conversation about nerd stuff, so that was out. He cleared his throat and looked up. “Hey, so…” He stopped. Keith was completely focused on playing with his fork and knife, softly mumbling something.

 _Wait…_ Lance squinted and leaned forward, straining his ears. Was he...no…

 _Oh my God._ He was. He totally was. Keith was making his fork and knife fight each other.

At that moment, Lance’s heart exploded. This was the absolute cutest thing he had ever seen.

Keith made the fork and knife clang together a few times, before shoving the fork into the knife, slamming the latter down on the table. “I’ve got you now, villain! Surrender!” he whispered intensely, moving the fork slightly as if it were speaking.

Lance watched with complete joy.

The knife suddenly sprang up and sliced in between the fork’s tines. “Ahhh!” Keith said softly, making the fork clatter onto his plate. The knife jumped in after it. “Mwahaha, now it is _I_ who have _you!_ _”_

“But who’s this? Why, it’s Napkin Man to the rescue!” Lance interjected, shoving his napkin forward.

Keith gasped and dropped the fork and knife, his face turning completely red. “I wasn’t, I didn’t know --” he stuttered in embarrassment. His hands flailed, totally at a loss of what to do.

Lance smiled encouragingly. He hadn’t meant to make Keith stop, though he could see now that startling him like that probably hadn’t been the best move. Still, it was the first thing he thought of, and he was determined to make this work. “Napkin Man will save Captain Fork from the Knife of Doom’s evil clutches!” he continued, moving his napkin forward onto Keith’s plate.

Keith stared at him with wide eyes. A tense moment passed, and Lance suddenly worried that Keith would just pretend like nothing had happened. But then, slowly, he picked up the fork and cleared his throat. “Napkin Man! You’ve come to save me! My hero!” he exclaimed, clacking the fork over to the napkin.

Lance’s smile broadened. “Don’t you worry, Captain Fork, I’ll protect you! I’ll be your armor!” He pressed the napkin down on one of the fork’s tines, piercing the top layer and attaching it like a cape.

“We’ll take the Knife of Doom down together!” Keith was enjoying this, Lance could tell, his eyes bright and sparkling with humor and enthusiasm. He whacked the fork onto the knife, but then pulled the knife up. “You’ll never take me alive!” The knife jumped up and was immediately hidden under the plate.

“Oh, no, Captain Fork, what should we do?” Lance had Napkin Man ask worriedly.

“Well, I think our best strategy would be to--”

Keith’s mouth suddenly clamped shut.

Lance frowned. _What happened?_ “Uh, Captain Fork?” he prompted, staring at Keith in confusion.

Keith’s cheeks flushed. He pressed his lips together and flitted his eyes to the side. Lance squinted, then turned to look.

The entire team was staring at them, Allura and Shiro having entered with the pot of goo.

Lance’s eyes went wide. _Ah, crap._ He’d completely forgotten everyone else existed. He glanced nervously at Keith, wondering if he would still be willing to continue, but Keith’s eyes were glued to his plate in a mean glare, purposely not looking up. Lance sighed. And they’d been making so much _progress!_

From the other side of the table, he heard Hunk and Pidge snort. He scowled at them, but they only smiled back and gave him a thumbs up. Lance huffed out a breath and slouched in his chair as Allura came around with the pot.

Lunch went by slowly for Lance. The others chatted happily around Keith and him, but it was like they were in their own little bubble of tension. Lance tried to ask Keith some questions that would get him to open up, but Keith just gave tight-lipped, one word answers that clearly meant he wasn’t in the mood to talk. It was _infuriating!_

“Hey, Keith,” Pidge piped up from the other end of the table, “aren’t you going to eat your food?”

Lance looked down, confused, then blinked. Keith hadn’t had a single bite! He glanced at him questioningly, feeling worried, but Keith stubbornly looked away. “I’m not hungry,” he ground out.

Pidge looked unconvinced. “There’s no way you’re not hungry. You only ate half your breakfast this morning!”

Keith sucked in a breath. He sank lower in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lance’s eyes widened. “You only ate half your breakfast?” he repeated.

Keith shrugged, making a noncommittal sound.

“It’s _true,”_ Pidge continued. “I know, because he left out the other half! It was still there when I came in with Lance.”

Keith’s muscles visibly tightened. He sank even lower. “Shut _up,”_ he hissed at Pidge, who shrugged her shoulders and went back to eating.

Lance drew his eyebrows together. _Keith must have forgotten to eat the rest when Shiro called him,_ he realized. _So...when I came in…_

He felt his stomach drop. _Shit._ It had been lucky for him, but without knowing it he must have made Keith really, really mad. He bit his lip. _Damn it, why does this always have to happen?!_

“Um, Keith?” he whispered, clearing his throat.

Keith didn’t look up.

Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, listen, I don’t know if you know, but, but I think I might have eaten the other half of your breakfast? By accident? I swear, I totally didn’t know it was yours! I’m really sorry.” Lance gulped, fixing his gaze on Keith earnestly.

Keith finally looked back to him, an expression of complete weariness on his face. He heaved a huge sigh, leaned forward, and thunked his forehead on the table.

Lance felt his heart pound. _Oh, God, he must be really pissed!_ This was the exact OPPOSITE of what Lance wanted. _How did I manage to screw up so badly?_  He swallowed, absently biting on the nails of his right hand out of nerves. His usual instinct was to yell at whoever was mad at him in retaliation, but that obviously wouldn’t work in this case, not when he was trying so hard to get Keith to like him. _What should I DO?_

Before he could think of something, however, Keith suddenly spoke, his voice muffled by the tablecloth. “I’m gonna go for a walk.” He sat up and pushed his chair back, the top half of his face red with indentations.

Lance panicked. “Here, let me help you, you look kinda tired,” he mumbled, standing clumsily and rushing around the table to get to Keith before the latter could even respond. He reached Keith just as he was rising and placed his hands on Keith’s shoulders to guide him.

That was a stupid move.

Keith rose quickly. Too quickly. Quick enough that if someone had been standing behind him, with, say, their hands on his shoulders, his head would have smashed into their nose.

Coincidentally, that’s what happened.

Lance shrieked and stumbled back, his hands flying to his face. He’d had a bloody nose before, had gotten into his fair share of fights, but this felt different. There was numbness and pain and pulsating heat and -- _lumpiness?_  He pressed gingerly on a bump that hadn’t been there before. Instantly, white hot agony ripped through the spot, causing his vision to go blurry for a moment. He bit back a shout, blood flowing between his fingers.

Suddenly, there were other people surrounding him. Lance blinked through the fog, spotting Shiro a few feet away, Allura and Coran on his heels, and Pidge and Hunk rising out of their seats.

And right in front of him was Keith.

He stuttered and stepped back in surprise, but Keith followed him. “Let me see,” Keith was saying quickly, his hands grasping at Lance’s hands, pulling them away from his throbbing face.

“No, it hurts,” Lance moaned nonsensically, keeping his hands stubbornly pressed to his nose. _It probably looks gross, and I don’t want Keith to see THAT._

Keith narrowed his eyes. “I KNOW it hurts, that’s why I need to see how bad it is!”

“Let him see it, Lance,” Shiro said, suddenly much closer than he’d been a moment ago, though still not as close as Keith.

Lance hesitated, and Keith seized his chance, pulling Lance’s slackened arms away. “...Ew,” he said, grimacing. Lance frowned. Keith bit his lip and reached forward, gently skimming his fingers over the area.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, you’re HURTING ME!” Lance moaned, flinching away from Keith’s touch.

“Stop moving, you’re making it worse.”

“No, YOU’RE making it worse.”

“I’m trying to help!”

Lance huffed and shut his mouth, letting Keith prod along the bridge. He had to admit, even through the pain, the light pressure of Keith’s hands was a pleasant thrill on his skin.

He couldn’t exactly _say_ that, though, so he just pouted and tried to ease his flinching. “...I can’t believe you broke my nose,” he muttered after a minute.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Oh, my God, you are such a crybaby, it’s NOT EVEN BROKEN.”

“It’s not?” Allura asked, looking over at Lance worriedly.

“No, it’s just bruised.” Keith pulled his hands away to reach over and pluck a napkin off the table, and Lance wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or upset. “Here, hold this over it to staunch the blood, and tilt your head back.”

Lance did as he was told, wincing. “This is the WORST THING EVER,” he complained, his voice nasal from the napkin. “How am I gonna do the rest of the training? What--”

Keith placed his hand on the small of Lance’s back.

Lance let out an embarrassing squeak, jolting at the warmth of Keith’s palm. _"What are you doing?!"_

“Don’t talk, you’ll get blood in your mouth,” Keith said sharply, pushing Lance forward. “Come on, I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

Lance blinked, glancing back to Shiro and Allura. “But what about training?”

The two leaders shared a look, communicating silently. “Keith, you’ll fight Hunk when you get back, then fight Lance tomorrow, when he gets better,” Shiro said after a moment. Allura nodded along.

“...All right,” Lance said hesitantly. He allowed himself to be urged forward by Keith, but threw a final glance back to Pidge and Hunk, silently begging for help. Hunk gave him another thumbs up. Pidge blew a kiss at him.

_I’m doomed._

The walk down the hallway was uncomfortable. Lance would have liked to talk, but Keith was moving too quickly to invite any conversation, so instead Lance just trotted along beside him, praying this day would be over soon.

Keith stopped in front of the infirmary, pressed a button on the wall, and pulled Lance inside when the door slid open. “Sit on the bed,” he instructed, moving around the corner to pull out some medical tools.

Lance did as he was told, the cot squeaking underneath him. “Why can’t I just go in the healing pod thing?” he asked after a moment.

Keith reappeared with a metal tray in tow, containing a wet washcloth, disinfectant, cotton balls, an ice pack, a spray and pill bottle, and a glass of water. Lance looked at them with alarm. “Because a bruised nose isn’t that serious. You’ll heal naturally in a few days,” Keith answered, picking up the washcloth. “Move the napkin out of the way.”

Lance obliged. The washcloth stung a little at first as it prodded along his nose, but after a moment, Lance got used to it. Its coolness was pleasant against his hot skin.

Keith was quiet as he worked, but not in the same way as before. He was focused now, intent on getting the job done right. His hands moved with quick, easy preciseness, his eyes never leaving his work. Lance could watch him for hours.

But that would be weird. Instead, Lance cleared his throat. “So, where’d you guys get all this stuff, anyway?”

“Hunk had most of it in his backpack when we came here,” Keith replied, pulling back to examine Lance’s face. He nodded once, then replaced the cloth with the cotton balls and disinfectant.

“Wow, he sure came prepared,” Lance joked. He winced as the damp cotton ball came into contact with his face. This was definitely _not_ pleasant. He squirmed in his seat, trying to keep still.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said quietly, sympathy on his face. “I know it hurts. Just don’t move _too_ much, if you can.” He dabbed at the open cut on Lance’s swollen bridge, then paused for a moment, his hand floating in the air. “...Also, I’m sorry I did this to you. And I’m sorry I didn’t apologize sooner for doing it.” He swallowed, then went to continue with the first aid. “I didn’t think. I just wanted to make sure you were all right, at first.”

Lance grinned. “Hey, it’s all good,” he said easily. “It’s totally cool that you broke my nose. I’m fine with it.”

“It’s not _broken,_ it’s just _bruised,”_ Keith sighed, shaking his head. He threw out the cotton ball, then grabbed the spray and handed it to Lance. “Here, spray this in your nose whenever it gets hard to breathe, it’s a decongestant.”

Lance nodded, pocketing it. “Okay. Anything else?”

“Take this right now.” Keith picked up the pill bottle and glass of water, handing them to Lance.

Lance squinted at the label. “Tylenol?”

“For the pain.”

“Ah.” He took out one of the small tablets and drank it down, then made a face. “That’s _gross."_

Keith gave a small smile, which surprised Lance. “I know,” he said, hopping up to sit on a counter, because apparently he was incapable of sitting in actual chairs. “This one time, back before I was kicked out of the Garrison, I went to the nurse after I screwed up on the simulator and hurt myself, and she gave me, like, _six_ different things to take for the pain. And all I had was a scratch!” He shook his head, his soft laugh like music to Lance’s ears.

Then Lance blinked. “Wait, you screwed up on the simulator? YOU?” _That doesn’t even seem possible._

Keith gave a nod. “I’m pretty sure everyone has screwed up on the simulator at some point. That thing is wonky, they should really fix it.”

Lance stared at him. “So, when I messed up -- It wasn’t just cause I sucked?” he mumbled, half to himself.

“You don’t suck.” Keith frowned. “Who said you sucked?”

“My instructors,” Lance pointed out. “Commander Iverson, the other students. _You."_   He shrugged. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. Besides, it’s, I mean, it’s kinda true.”

“No, it’s not.” Keith hopped down and grabbed the ice pack and washcloth, wrapping the latter around the former. “It’s not true at all. I don’t know why I said that, I guess I was just -- I mean, you said it yourself, we’re ‘rivals’, or whatever, so.” He hesitated, then gently pressed the pack against Lance’s nose. A tiny shudder ran through Lance. “But, no, it’s not true. I mean, maybe you’re not the most _conventionally_ good pilot, but you do your own thing, you know? And it works for you. You get the job done, and you have fun doing it.” He gave a small, lopsided smile. “Isn’t that what’s important?”

Lance gazed at Keith, feeling something balling in his throat. For some reason, it almost felt like -- well, it was the funniest thing, but it almost felt like he was gonna cry. He breathed out heavily. _I love him. I love him._

Keith cleared his throat, then grasped Lance’s hand and carefully laid it over the pack. “Hold this down for ten minutes, okay? Do it four times a day, for however long it takes the swelling to go down.”

Lance’s head swam. It was a bit strange to go back to the medical stuff after what Keith just said, but he nodded anyway. “Okie dokie. You know, you’re really good at this, all this doctor stuff,” he said with a grin, swinging his legs back and forth.

Keith huffed out a dry laugh. “Not really, I just paid attention in Health.” He smiled, but there was something wrong with it, like his lips were just moving automatically. His eyes had lost their sparkle.

Lance gut filled with dread. _Did I mess up? Is he still mad at me?_ “Uh, Keith, are you all right?” he asked cautiously, twisting his fingers around each other.

Keith stared at him for a long moment, his face unreadable. Lance shifted uncomfortably. Finally, Keith heaved a huge sigh, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “I think I’m gonna take that walk now.”

Lance nodded slowly, unsure of what was happening.

“If you need me for anything, you know where to find me.” Keith turned to leave the room.

“Keith, wait,” Lance said quickly, gripping the edge of the cot in his hands. At Keith’s expectant look, Lance swallowed. “Are we -- I know we fight a lot, but...we ARE still friends, right?”

Keith blinked, surprised, then gave a small, sad smile. “Yeah. ‘Course.” He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something else, then seemed to think better of it and awkwardly walked out.

Lance studied the door for a while, turning his thoughts over in his head carefully. He pressed his lips together.

_I have to tell him._

* * *

 

_“Keith?” Lance said in a low, sexy voice, tugging gently on the soft white sleeve of his companion._

_Keith turned from the edge of the balcony, a question on his face. The wind blew his hair majestically. “What - What is it, Lance?”_

_“Your eyes look beautiful in the moonlight, I must say.” Lance whipped out his arm and wrapped it around Keith’s waist, tugging him in closer._

_Keith gasped. “Oh! That’s, that’s quite forward of you!”_

_“But it’s the truth, my darling!” Lance exclaimed, brushing a lock of thick black hair off of Keith’s luminescent skin._

_“Now look, you’ve made me blush.” Keith looked away, but Lance gently grasped his chin and tilted his head up. (Keith was much shorter than Lance. By a lot, in fact.)_

_“I speak from the heart,” Lance whispered, his voice dropping even lower. (This made it even sexier.) (Actually, he also LOOKED super insanely sexy.) (So sexy, in fact, that probably every girl would instantly swoon at the sight of him.) (Every guy, too.) (For example, Keith was swooning right now.)_

_(Oh, yeah. Keith.)_

_“The - The heart? What are you trying to SAY, Lance?” Keith gazed up, his eyes like two big pools of…_

_Uh…_

_Water?_

_Two big pools of water. “Are you -- Are you implying what I think you are?” Keith stammered, his voice breathy._

_Lance closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Keith, I must tell you: I am most desperately in love with you!” Lance dropped to his knees, grasping Keith’s hand. “Run away with me! Let’s get married tonight!”_

_Keith gasped. “Oh, Lance! You’re SO romantic!” he sighed._

_Lance pressed a kiss to Keith’s wrist. “I live only to serve you.”_

_“But,” Keith said, turning his face away, “what will my father think? He hates you!”_

_“Damn him!” Lance stood suddenly and cupped Keith’s cheeks in his hands. “He’ll never come between us! Our love for each other could move mountains! He’ll never find us if we --”_

Wait.

Lance frowned. Keith didn’t have a father. Keith was an ORPHAN. Also, the ship didn’t have a balcony.

 _Ah, crap._ So that idea was out. Lance sighed, falling against his pillow with a thud. _Back to square one._ He clasped his hands behind his head and crossed one leg over his knee, staring hard at his ceiling. _That scenario sucked, anyway._ It needed to be bigger. Better. The most romantic, amazing shit Lance could ever come up with. He had to be more charming than he’d ever been before in his life. After all, this was a LOVE CONFESSION. He’d have to go full on Romeo and Juliet if he wanted it to go well.

His nose gave a painful throb, jolting him out of his thoughts. _Damn. Forgot about that._ With a groan, he heaved himself up off his mattress and went to grab the ice pack off his desk. He glanced at the work he’d half-heartedly tried to complete hours ago before giving up and daydreaming about Keith for the rest of the afternoon. _Hm. Maybe work is what I need; something really boring to focus on and get my creative juices flowing._

Then, he noticed his mp3 player next to it.

He picked that up instead.

The first song that came on once he’d slid Pidge’s headphones over his ears was one he didn’t know too well, one that was just in his library because his little sister wanted it. He’d heard it a few times, years before; he hadn’t really liked it. Some breathy, poppy love song about colors, or something.

But now -- Now, it caught his attention.

He sat up straighter as it continued, listening to the words carefully, picking apart the chorus. Once it finished, he rewinded it and played it again. Then he played it again. And again. The more he listened to it, the more perfect it seemed to become, like an answer to his prayers. And there was one verse in particular --

He snatched a piece of scrap paper off his desk and scratched the lyrics on it. _Yes, if I just switch a few things around --_ He furiously erased and rewrote, then erased and rewrote again. The words seemed to blur on the page as he stared at them. _You’ve managed to stumble across a gold mine, Lance,_ he thought, feeling a grin spread across his lips. _Keith is totally gonna love this._

But -- what time was it? Lance hurriedly glanced down at his watch, feeling a stab of panic. _2:30 AM._ He cringed. _I must have fallen asleep at some point without realizing it._ What should he do? He stood up, antsy, and began pacing around his room, unconsciously twisting the paper in his fingers. _Should I wait until tomorrow?_ No, he was way too impatient. It suddenly seemed like he would die if he didn’t tell Keith how he felt as _soon_ as possible. He bit his lip. _I don’t think Keith’ll appreciate being woken up at this hour, though…_

He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. Okay, maybe Keith would be pissed _at first..._ but THEN, when he heard what Lance had to say, he’d be so overwhelmed with wanting to make out right then and there that he’d totally forget how mad he was. Lance nodded to himself. _Yep, this is definitely the best course of action._ Feeling a new sense of determination take hold of him, he pocketed the paper and left his room.

Keith’s room was fairly close to his own, but it still was a long enough walk for Lance to get nervous. His hands trembled, fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie. _Man, man, I really didn’t think this through, oh GOD, what am I even DOING right now?!_ He halted in his footsteps, spotting Keith’s door a few feet away, and swallowed. _Okay, Lance, this is it. This is it. Now do it just like you planned._

He sucked in a breath, then dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out the few lint-covered pennies and dimes he still had in there. _Not as good as pebbles, and he doesn’t have a window, but this’ll have to do._ He straightened his shoulders and carefully tossed the first penny forward. It hit Keith’s door with a _clack._

No response.

Lance did it again.

Still no response.

He scrunched his nose and squatted down for better aim, then continued pelting loose change at Keith’s door for the next minute. _This is so romantic,_ he thought smugly, flicking a rare nickel forward.

But there was still no sign of Keith.

Lance frowned and glanced down at his hand. He only had a quarter left, and he really _didn’t_ want to waste a whole quarter on THIS, of all things. _But for Keith, I have to make sacrifices._ He took a deep breath and dramatically tossed the quarter, using all the force he could muster.

At that exact moment, the door slid open.

The quarter smacked Keith in the forehead with a _thwack_ before clattering onto the floor.

Keith blinked, shock evident on his face.

 _Oh, no._ Lance stared, holding his breath, eyes wide as saucers, as Keith’s brain took a minute to work out what just happened. _No no no no no no--_

“OW!” Keith’s hand flew to the red mark on his forehead as his eyes narrowed in anger. “That HURT! What the hell are you _doing,_ Lance?!” he hissed.

Lance panicked. “Um, uh, well, I was just, I wanted to tell you something --”

“So you decided to _throw a quarter at my head?”_

“No!” Lance yelped, standing up quickly and hurrying over. “I was aiming for your door, not your head --”

“So you decided to _throw a quarter at my door?”_ Keith amended, glaring at Lance incredulously.

Lance bit his lip. “I wanted to get your attention! Like, you know how in movies, the hero will, like, throw pebbles at the chick’s window? You know? I was doing that!” He frowned. “Except, well, you don’t have a window, and I didn’t really have any pebbles, so --”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Keith growled, clenching his hands into fists. “Why didn’t you just _knock?_ Like a _normal person?”_

“Because I was trying to be -- You know what? Just forget it.” Lance felt a flush creeping up his face. On the one hand, he couldn’t believe how badly this was going, but on the other hand, Keith was wearing red pajamas that were just a tad too big for him, so. “The main thing is, I need to tell you something. Something very important.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Important enough to warrant waking me up at 2:30 in the morning?”

“YES.”

Keith blinked, then frowned. “Wait.” His expression suddenly turned serious. “Is it your injury? Did something change? Did you accidentally sleep on it?” He reached forward without warning and began palpating Lance’s nose. “Damn it, it’s my fault, I should have warned you not to do that --”

“It’s not my nose!” Lance interrupted, grabbing at Keith’s hands. “It’s something else.” He took a breath, then stopped and gulped. Now that the moment had come, he couldn’t seem to get the words out.

Keith stared at him expectantly. He was met with silence. “Well, what is it?” he blurted out impatiently.

“Just gimme a sec!” Lance yelled. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. _Ok. Ok. You can do this. This is the most witty, genius thing you have ever thought of, and he’s going to think you’re super charming, and it’s gonna be great._

“Hurry UP.”

“Okay!” Lance gripped Keith’s hands tighter. He puffed out his chest, opened his eyes, and cleared his throat. “I was blue, and I liked you because you were red. You touched me, and suddenly I was...I was a, a lilac sky.” He shifted. _Man, these lyrics are so goddamn STUPID._ What had he been _thinking?_ Lance took a breath, feeling very dumb. “So…do you, do you think, um, purple is right for you?” he finished, his voice cracking embarrassingly on the last word. He gazed at Keith, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

Keith stared at him. And stared. And stared some more.

Lance stared back, trying to keep from fidgeting.

Keith opened his mouth as if to say something. Lance held his breath. Keith closed his mouth. Lance felt like he was going to faint.

There was more staring.

 _"What?"_   Keith finally uttered, fixing his gaze quizzically on Lance. He dropped his hands, and Lance’s heart sank.

“W-What?” Lance clenched and unclenched his fists. It was going badly. It was definitely going badly. _Oh, God, why am I so STUPID?_

“What the HELL was that? What are you _talking_ about?” There was anger behind Keith’s eyes, in his tone, and something else as well, but Lance couldn’t for the life of him figure out what.

“What do you mean, what am I talking about?” Lance felt his heart hammer in his chest. _I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do!_ “I said what I was talking about. I said it. I just said it!”

Keith’s face flushed, and he glared at Lance with new venom. “You’re, you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

Lance frowned. “What? No. Of course not. Why would I --”

“Cause you _know_ I don’t understand things like that, and, and you’re acting in this--” Keith swallowed, his face twisted in agitation. “This _way,_ that--”

“Oh!” Lance’s eyes widened in realization. _He thinks I --_ “No, no! I mean, it’s a song, that’s what I was saying, the lyrics to a song. It’s a pretty bad song, actually, it’s really cheesy, but I thought I would say it to you because --”

“So you ARE making fun of me!” Keith shouted, his short fuse blowing off immediately.

Lance scowled. “I literally just said that I wasn’t!”

“No, you _are,_ you, you come to me in the middle of the night, and, and you make me _worry_ that something might actually be _wrong,_  that you’re in trouble or something happened, but, it’s just to -- And you know, you _always_ do this!” Keith’s voice had climbed to an unearthly octave. “You’re _always_ trying to rile me up, even though you know how I feel, and it’s just SO unprofessional!”

 _"Unprofessional?”_ Lance dropped his jaw incredulously. _What a hypocrite!_ “You’re kidding me, you actually have the gall to call ME unprofessional after all the stuff you’ve pulled today?”

Keith pressed his lips into a thin, white line. “You know why I’ve been acting like that,” he hissed. “You know exactly why. I know I’ve been obvious, so can we just forget about it? Can you just please stop rubbing it in my face?”

“I’m not rubbing _anything_ in your face!” Lance whined, feeling frustration pound in his throat. “And I’m not that smart, I know that, but I’m _not_ stupid, so you’re not -- obvious, or whatever it is you’re talking about!”

“Oh, really?” Keith looked mock surprised. “If you didn’t come here to be a jerk about it, then why exactly ARE you here, Lance? Hm? How about you tell me _that?”_

Lance ran his fingers through his hair. “I already told you!” _He doesn’t like me back. I don’t wanna say it again if he doesn’t like me back._ Lance’s hands were shaking. “I already told you, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Keith huffed. “I thought so, you can’t come up with an excuse.” He glared furiously. “You know, I get that you just want to be friends, but this is a new low, even for you.”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat. He felt crushed. “Why are you being so _mean?!”_

“Why are _you_ being so mean?” Keith exclaimed, shoving himself closer. “You come here in the middle of the night, just to be a complete jerk to me--”

“I’m here because I _like_ you, okay?!” Lance was panting. He felt his blood rushing in his ears. “I’m here because I want to _kiss you!”_

Silence rang in the hall.

Keith’s breath rushed out in one smooth arc. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Lance would have laughed, if he wasn’t so miserable.

But Keith’s expression made his feelings clear. _He doesn’t like me back. He really doesn’t._ Lance’s eyes were burning. His whole face was on fire. “Just -- Forget I said anything,” he mumbled, turning on his heel.

He faintly heard Keith calling out to him somewhere in the fog of his brain, but he was too far away to care.

* * *

 

Something was slamming.

His mind was fuzzy and hot, but Lance distinctly heard something slamming. Metal, specifically.

He ignored it.

It continued.

He ignored it more, pressing his burning face into the coolness of his pillow. _I can’t do this right now._

The door burst open.

“Lance! I swear, you better get your lazy butt out of bed right this instant, or I’m telling Shiro that--” Pidge broke off mid-sentence.

Lance had rolled over onto his back, blearily resigned to his fate of being yelled at. “Go on,” he muttered, his voice thick with mucus. “What were you going to say? You’re gonna tell Shiro what?”

Pidge stared at him. “You’re sick,” she stated flatly.

Lance swiped at his throbbing nose. “A side effect of being smashed in the face with Keith’s fat head.” _And smashed in the heart with his words,_ Lance added to himself, misery drowning his brain.

Pidge grimaced. “I take it you’re not getting out of bed today.”

“No, I don’t think that’s on my to-do list.” Lance sighed and closed his eyes. “Hey, before you leave, can you hand me the stuff on my desk?”

Pidge obliged, passing over the pill bottle and nasal spray. She paused. “Uh, I’m pretty sure this ice pack is melting.”

“I really don’t give a crap,” Lance replied, sitting up and snatching it from her hands. He pressed it against his nose.

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “So...you wanna talk about it?”

“What, being a walking snot-zombie?”

“No.” Pidge rolled her eyes. _"It._ The thing that happened last night. The thing we all heard.”

Lance frowned and looked determinedly down at his hands.

“The argument thing. That thing. With Keith.”

Silence sat heavily between them.

“No,” Lance said finally, throwing himself back against his mound of pillows. “No, I do not want to talk about it, and I never want to hear that name brought up in my presence ever again, thank you.”

“I could talk to him for you,” Pidge offered, something strange in her voice. “Hunk and I, we could --”

“Just leave it alone.” Lance flipped over and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. “It doesn’t even matter.”

He heard Pidge shifting in the background. “Okay, see, I can’t leave it alone, because you’re moping, and I don’t like to see you mope, Lance,” she said finally, all in a rush.

“I’m not moping,” Lance grunted, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Pidge groaned. “Yes, you are! And you shouldn’t be! You’re Lance, you’re supposed to, like, make jokes and have fun and be goofy.”

Lance picked his pillow up and pressed it down over the back of his head. “I don’t feel like being funny. Leave me alone.”

There was silence. Then, “You know, Keith was asking for you at breakfast. He really wants to talk to you.”

Lance snorted. “What, so he can let me down gently? Yeah, tell him no thanks.”

“No, so you two can talk this out like mature people and NOT bury yourselves in your blankets.” Pidge smacked the one Lance was clutching for emphasis. “You can’t stay under there forever, you know. You’re cold’s gotta go eventually.”

“Not if I can help it,” Lance mumbled. He nestled further under his pillow, intent on building a cocoon for himself. _I’ll stay sick ‘till the end of time if it means I won’t have to face Keith._

He heard Pidge breathe out heavily behind him. “Listen, if you DO wanna talk about it, Hunk and I, well, we’re here, y’know?” she said quietly.

Lance closed his eyes.

Pidge sighed. “Okay. Well, I’ll go then, I guess. Get some rest. Get better.”

The door shut a few moments later.

 _He doesn’t like me back._ The thought wouldn’t leave Lance alone. It was like a gnat, buzzing around his brain furiously, sending waves of anxiety through him. _He yelled at me. He yelled at me for telling him that I liked him. He thought I was making fun of him, because he DOESN’T like me, he’s made it clear he doesn’t like me, and I was trying to flirt with him, and it made him uncomfortable._

Lance twisted onto his side and fixed his gaze blankly on the wall.

_He doesn’t like me._

The morning passed in a blur between consciousness and sleep. When Lance wasn’t dozing, he was staring at the wall. When he wasn’t staring at the wall, he was pressing the rapidly melting ice pack to his nose. And when he wasn’t doing any of those, he was very purposefully not thinking about Keith.

_Keith. Keith doesn’t like me._

Lance stared at the wall some more.

He had just taken a spray of decongestant when the sound of someone knocking on metal reached his ears again, albeit much softer than earlier. Lance frowned. “Go away,” he called, wiping his nose.

“Lance? It’s Shiro, can I come in?”

Lance hesitated. _If it was anyone else…_ He sighed. “Fine,” he said, falling back onto the mattress.

The door slid open. Shiro poked his head around the corner. “Lance?”

Lance grunted in response.

Shiro cleared his throat awkwardly. “I know you’re sick, but I’m here as a messenger, apparently. Keith wants you to know that he really, really needs to talk to you. Whenever you’re up for that. Preferably as soon as possible.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, you wanna tell me what this is all about, or?”

Lance scowled. “No, I do not,” he said pointedly, turning to face away from Shiro. “You tell Keith that I understand how he feels perfectly, and that there’s no need to drag this out. See, this is me being a mature adult.” _And also tell him that my heart is literally crying right now, and it’s all his fault._

There was a pause.

Then, Lance felt the bed dip. He glanced up in confusion.

Shiro had seated himself on the edge of the mattress, a concerned look fixed on his face. “What’s wrong, buddy?” he asked.

 _Oh, no. This is exactly what I DON’T need right now._ The last thing Lance wanted was pity from the person he looked up to the most. He kept his mouth shut, refusing to answer, but felt his chin tremble despite his best efforts. _Damn it._

“You two have a fight?” Shiro continued.

Lance looked away and nodded.

“A big one?”

Lance nodded again.

“And that was the cause of all that noise last night?” Shiro’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The noise that _woke me up?”_

Lance winced. Then, he nodded.

Shiro exhaled slowly, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. _Okay._ So, what exactly did you two fight about?”

Lance bit his lip. _I don’t really want everyone to know about it, not now that I look so dumb._ He swallowed. “Well, I guess, without getting too specific, I really wanted to tell Keith something, something that was very important to me, but--” He took a breath. His face was getting hot again. “But when I told him, he thought I was making fun of him, because it wasn’t important to him, because he didn’t feel the same way.” _Why did I think he would feel the same way? I knew he secretly hated me. I KNEW it. So why did I tell him how I felt?_

Something clicked in Shiro’s eyes. “Oh,” he breathed, realization dawning on his face. Then, he blinked. And stared at Lance.

Lance stared back, confused.

Shiro frowned. He furrowed his brow. “Lance, are you -- I don’t mean anything by this, really, but...are you sure that you truly understand what Keith meant?”

Lance squinted. “Yeah. The way he was talking, it was pretty obvious how he felt,” he replied, his tone sour. _Don’t really wanna be reminded of it._

Shiro widened his eyes. “Wait, so you -- He didn’t actually _say_ any of that?”

“He said the part about me making fun of him.” Lance drew his knees up to his chest. “The rest, well, he may not have said it out loud, but I could tell he was thinking it.”

“Lance.” Shiro’s voice was urgent. Lance looked up, alarmed. “Lance, you need to talk to him, okay? Promise me that you’ll talk to him.”

“What? No way!” Lance was taken aback. _Did Shiro hear any of what I just said?_ “I told you, I just wanna put it in the past.”

“Lance, as the leader of the five Paladins of Voltron, I _order_ you to talk to Keith right this instant. You’ll cause problems for the whole team if you don’t work this out.” There was no room for argument; Shiro’s words were firm.

Lance pressed his hands into his lap. Every cell in his body screamed at him to hide under the covers some more, but he knew that wasn’t an option. _But I don’t want to do this,_ he thought desperately, fear and anxiety causing his shoulders to tremble. _It was bad enough last night; now, Keith’s gonna be all pitying, try to make me feel better._ Lance didn’t want that at all.

“Listen, I know it seems scary, but that’s how life works. You have to do scary things sometimes.” Shiro patted Lance on the back. “You’ll grow stronger because of it. And we need that, as a team. We need you, Lance. We can’t function properly without you.”

Something flickered inside Lance’s chest. “Really?”

Shiro smiled. “Yeah. So get this over with, patch things up, and come back to training once you’re all better.” He stood and made his way to the door, then stopped. “And, listen, I really don’t think you have anything to worry about, all right?”

Lance drew his brows together. “What do you mean?”

“Just -- Trust me.”

A sudden thought occurred to Lance. “Hey, if I promise to talk to Keith, will you promise to talk to Allura?” he asked nonchalantly.

Shiro’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “W-What?”

Lance grinned impishly. “Nothing. Go get Keith.”

With Shiro out of the picture (coughing and spluttering the whole way), there was nothing left to distract Lance from his impending doom. He twisted his fingers idly around each other, unsure of what to do with himself. He thought briefly of fixing up his appearance (which was disgusting by his standards), but then remembered that it didn’t _matter_ because Keith _didn’t like him back._ What was the point of even worrying about this conversation, then? It wasn’t like he could make Keith’s opinion of him any WORSE.

A fierce knock on the door startled him. Lance looked up, his heart pounding. He really, really didn’t want to go through with this. He was so tired of people looking down on him -- for his skills, his intelligence, and now it would be his feelings, too.

 _But you’re YOU,_ he thought to himself as he stood and crossed the room. _You’re needed on the crew. They can’t function without you. And this whole thing is driving a wedge in our teamwork._ With that idea in mind, he took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and opened the door.

Keith jumped at the sudden movement. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair wasn’t as shiny as usual. His clothes were all wrinkled.

Lance frowned, his fingers itching to straighten and smooth them out, but that wasn’t really an option at the moment. _He_ had to be the one to talk first. He cleared his throat. “Listen, Keith, let’s not make this more awkward than we have to, okay? I know you don’t like me back, so we don’t have to --”

Keith rushed forward and smashed their lips together.

Lance’s brain exploded. It _exploded._ Shock buzzed through his every nerve, collapsed all his thoughts into one giant mess, a mess with a greasy red jacket and a dumb mullet and lips that were chapped and dry and _perfect_ and pressing against his so awkwardly -- _Does Keith even know how to kiss?_ \-- but they were forceful and determined and encompassed everything that Lance loved about him, everything about him that ticked Lance off, _everything,_ and Keith was grabbing his shoulders, shoving him backwards, and Lance let him, he’d let him do anything he wanted --

Lance’s knee knocked hard against the edge of his bed. _Pain. Pain. Pain._ He gasped through his nose and bit down instinctively.

Bit down on something. Something squishy.

“OW!” Keith yelped, shoving Lance away and slapping his hand over his mouth. “You just bit my tongue!”

Keith’s tongue. _Which was in your mouth,_ his mind helpfully supplied. Keith’s tongue was inside of his mouth. Lance slumped onto his bed, having absolutely no idea what was happening. He was panting, that much he knew, and he felt flushed and sweaty. And his nose was beginning to drip. He swiped at it unceremoniously with his sleeve.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” Keith was saying, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

 _What?_ Lance looked up, his mind numb. _Keith? Apologize?_

And then his mind snapped back together. He jolted. _Keith! He kissed me! He kissed me, and I bit his tongue!_ “You kissed me!” Lance shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Keith.

Keith glared. “Yeah, and then you bit my tongue!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Lance’s knee throbbed. “You startled me! What the hell?!”

“What do you mean ‘what the hell’?” Keith’s face turned red. “I think I made myself pretty clear.”

Lance stared at him. “But you hate me. You don’t like me back. Why -- I don’t get it?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Keith ran his fingers through his hair. “I literally just kissed you.”

Lance scowled. “Yeah, and I’m asking why!”

“Because I have a crush on you, you idiot!”

Lance’s heart thudded. “WHAT?”

Keith started pacing frantically. “It was so obvious, I was being so obvious, it hit me a few days ago and I couldn’t stop _thinking_ about you, and I was acting weird, and I thought -- didn’t you know?” Keith paused to stare at Lance. “Isn’t that why you were acting weird, too? Cause you knew, and it made you uncomfortable?”

This was way too much for Lance’s mind to handle. “No, I was acting weird ‘cause I liked you,” he said simply.

Keith blinked. “Oh,” he breathed, his face slackening. “That makes a lot of sense.” He frowned. “But -- Then why were you trying so hard to be my friend?”

“I was _flirting."_

Keith blinked again. “Oh.”

Lance’s brain was still struggling to keep up. “How were you being obvious?” he asked helplessly.

“I flirted with you when you fell,” Keith pointed out. “I left my breakfast out for you. I nearly _kissed_ you,Lance. How could you not know?”

Lance’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “Wait, _what?_ When the hell did you try to kiss me?”

Keith frowned. “When we were sparring. I reached out to grab you and kiss you. The only reason I didn’t was because Shiro interrupted.”

“No, you were trying to strangle me,” Lance said nonsensically.

“Oh, my God.” Keith began rubbing his temples. “You moron, are you actually serious right now?”

Heat rushed to Lance’s cheeks. “Hey, don’t call me a moron!” he exclaimed. “It’s a completely valid interpretation!”

“Why in the world would I want to _strangle_ you, Lance?”

“For making you look stupid in front of everyone! For taking advantage of the fact that you were distracted!”

Keith gave him a withering look, then came close and carefully placed his hands on Lance’s shoulders. “Lance,” he said, looking at him with a firm gaze, “the reason I was distracted was because I  _wanted to kiss you.”_

Lance blinked slowly. “Oh.”

“And then you beat me, and yeah, it annoyed me, but it mainly just made me want to kiss you more.”

“Oh.” Lance felt his pulse in his throat, as rapid as a hummingbird. “I see.” He searched Keith’s eyes, his mind putting the pieces together. “So, you purposely left your breakfast out? On purpose?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yes, Lance, purposely on purpose.” He gave a small smile. “I also took care of your nose.”

“You _broke_ my nose.”

“I _bruised_ it.”

“Wait.” Something still didn’t add up. “Then why were you being so...why were you so on edge? How come you didn’t want to talk to me?”

Keith pressed his lips together. “I’m not used to feeling things like this,” he confessed, looking away. “It was very strange, wanting to be close with someone. I didn’t really know how to handle it. I thought if I yelled at you, maybe I could trick myself into thinking that I didn’t like you.”

“But...it didn’t work?”

The corners of Keith’s lips perked up. “What do you think, Lance?”

Lance didn’t know what he was thinking. The only thing he knew was that there was something giddy opening up in his chest, something that made his heart sing and his stomach floaty and nervous. Something that made him so happy, he felt like his chest would burst.

 _Keith likes me,_ he thought. _He LIKES me._

Lance leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn’t really a good kiss -- neither of them were stellar at it -- but that didn’t really matter. They would practice. For right now, it was perfect. He reached over and curled his arms around Keith’s waist, bringing him closer, and Keith followed by crawling onto Lance’s lap, his hands ghosting up to cup Lance’s face. It was good. It was so good.

Then Lance pushed him away. _Oh, crap._

“What?” Keith asked in alarm, his eyes wide.

Lance turned to the side and let out a huge sneeze. He sniffled, his nose dripping and puffy. “Sorry,” he mumbled, swiping at his face with a sheepish smile.

Keith grimaced. “...Ew.” He carefully detangled himself from Lance and plopped onto the bed beside him, crossing his legs. “Maybe we could just hold hands,” he suggested, offering Lance his own.

Lance smiled so wide, he thought his lip would split. “Okay,” he said, grasping Keith’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Keith blushed furiously and averted his eyes.

It was more than Lance could have ever asked for.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love Halsey, but MAN, does that song annoy me. Unfortunately, I can't stop singing it when I think of Klance.
> 
> Tumblr: englishcivilwar


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